


The Rain of London

by rhye



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-28
Updated: 2011-12-28
Packaged: 2017-10-28 07:47:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/305545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhye/pseuds/rhye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Remus feels the push and pull of place, entangled with the push and pull of person and the darkness of depression. Just after Halloween 1981.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Rain of London

Everything is distance in a bittersweet way. Distance was something he had craved in the way one craved relief, suicide. He wanted to be left alone. Now, however, that distance and exterior gloom, sheets of grey rain and black cold, had come to greet him, he felt no relief. He'd thought that laying down the facade would make life easier, but, to his terrifying discovery, there had been nothing under that facade. He yearned to replace it just to know he had a face.

"Mother." The floor hurt, and it was a focusing sensation. His mother's face came into view on her end of the Floo and Remus knelt. She didn't speak, but he came through after seeing that she was home.

They sat, still, silent. They grey gloom was here in Yorkshire also, but it wasn't raining.

"It's raining in London," Remus opens a stiff conversation.

"It's always raining, dear." His mother sounds unkind to his ears, and Remus, to his abject horror, begins to wish dully for distance from her once again.

How will it be, if others make him feel wrong, and alone-ness makes him feel wrong? What options are left?

Better, he thinks, to feel homesick somewhere other than home.

"I'm tired of the rain," he lies. "I think I'll travel for a while." It's a convenient excuse for the hollow ache in his chest, missing England.

His mother pulls down his father's leather trunk, not a school trunk, and implores him to think of home sometimes. He doesn't need to be asked; the rain of London has replaced the blood in his veins, and it's not what he will miss.


End file.
